I seek you in light fragments
falling on my hollowed cheek
through the crevices of your memories, your clandestine rites
emerging from the smoke of my lonesome instances
I twist and rest and deteriorate
In the unused mattresses of our unbreakable promises
the maid has knocked for the seventh time in a row
“madam, the weather is getting cold
you been here for days, it stinks
should I get the bath ready?”
I tried to laugh but I half sob
the maid lowered her gaze and twisted the knob
the maid knocked again
she asked how the food was
"bon appétit, delicious as always"
but I know she saw the stale food on the counter top
but she doesn't say more
cause her cheque is fat and hands full
of children and husband, exclusive
she sighs at my unmoved figure on the mattress of your broken promises
And I continue to seek you in the hologramic facades
of electronic messages
and in the roughness of my unbroken promises